A Chance at Happiness
by MissNightshade144
Summary: Callie Torres is still aching from her breakup with Erica, and is trying to stop the hurt in whatever way possible. A rushed morning leads her to meeting a beautiful yet silent woman, who seems afraid of everything and everyone. Why can't Callie get this skittish blonde off her mind? And united by what could only be described as fate, can they have their chance at happiness?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N hello all fellow Calzona fans! This is my first Grey's fanfiction, and the idea came to me after watching the season premiere, and having the whole amputation storyline taken (Drat!). As a forewarning, the rating in this story may change in the future, but for now and the near future it's a T. I hope you all enjoy the story, and feel free to review!**

**-Nightshade**

**I don't own Grey's Anatomy, if I did Izzie, Lexie, and Teddy would still be around!**

A Chance at Happiness

Chapter One

The day began like each one before it, waking up five minutes before my alarm was set to ring off, allowing me five minutes to lie in bed and ruminate over my sucky life. The almost ever-present hangover buzzed behind my eyeballs, and I didn't want to get up at all today. This had become the new morning routine for me, ever since Erica Hahn had left me in the hospital parking lot, without even a backwards look. I banished the thoughts of her to the back of my mind, it was way too early in the day to drink or cry, and thinking of the blonde surgeon usually resulted in one or either outcomes. I sat up and stretched, holding the bed sheets up against my bare chest. I contemplated shoving my heel into the back of the man sleeping next to me, following the whole "misery loves company" school of thought, but I figured I'd rather be dressed before I kick the sorry sop out on his ass. I grabbed jeans and a shirt at random, not really caring about my appearance, I had reached a point in my sadness where brushing my hair as well as my teeth was an ambitious task. I was in the kitchen making coffee for the road when the guy stumbled into the main room, wearing only his boxers as he was apparently too dumb to find the rest of his clothing. I suppressed a groan upon seeing him; he looked way more attractive after multiple tequila shots.

"Hey babe, why the rush? Come back in here and we can finish what we started last night." His tone of voice oozed sleaze, and I seriously considered throwing the hot coffee at his face to shut him up. I was in no way, a morning person.

"I have to get to work. You have to go." I growled irritably. He took a couple steps forward at me.

"You come with me, and work will be the last thing on your mind. Consider it a stress-reliever." I rolled my eyes as I grabbed my purse.

"Go get some goddamn clothing on." I muttered, waiting until he strode into my room to grab my cellphone.

"Mark Sloan here." The voice of my best friend crackled through the speaker.

"Mark, I need your help. You know the drill." I groaned into the phone, irritated that I had to sink to this level again.

"Jeez Cal really? This is the second time this week!" he announced.

"Just hurry!" I huffed, before hanging up on him. The ugly guy-who-has-yet-to-be-named had returned, fully clothed this time.

"Can we at least sit down for a cup of coffee? C'mon, you may learn to love me." I checked the floor to make sure he wasn't leaving a trail of slime wherever he walked.

"Not likely." I muttered under my breath, too low for him to hear, hopefully.

"What was that Babe?" he asked. I didn't have to make up an excuse, as the doorbell rang right on time.

"Get that for me will ya?" I asked, heading back into the kitchen and trying to look busy. The guy, whom I've newly dubbed as Sleazeball, strode confidently over to the door and swung it open, Mark towering over him from the other side.

"Who the hell are you?" Sleazeball less-than-eloquently asked.

"Mark Sloan, Callie's boyfriend. Who the hell are you?" he roared, in a show of faux-anger. The lie rolled off his tongue easily, he had used it so many times before. Mark flexed his biceps involuntarily and studied his knuckles, looking as if he was about to beat the living crap out of the smaller man. Sleazeball looked back at me with a deer-in-the-headlights expression, and I fumbled to look appropriately shocked. The guy darted around Mark's intimidating figure and sprinted down the hallway, frightened out of his wits.

"My God Cal, where are you finding these guys?" he asked as he swung the door shut behind him, "I was relieved to see him leave, the view from behind as he ran like a little girl was actually more attractive-looking than his face!" I searched for my house keys as I got ready to leave.

"Yeah, tequila makes people seem a lot more attractive." I muttered, shutting the door behind us.

"Then you must have been pretty damn drunk. Seriously Cal, I'm worried about you. Picking up random guys in bars, screwing them, and then kicking them out the next day isn't a healthy way to get over Er-"

"She-whom-shall-not-be-named-or-talked-about. And seriously, the man-whore of Seattle Grace Hospital is giving relationship advice?" I sarcastically shot back. We had already jumped in his car and were halfway to the hospital before I groaned, smacking myself in the forehead.

"I forgot the coffee at my apartment, I was in such a rush to leave I must have left it on the counter." I groaned. I had no idea how I was supposed to make it through a forty-eight hour shift, coming off a hangover, without coffee. I may as well have been asked to walk to the end of the earth.

"Don't worry." He sighed, pulling into the parking lot of a random coffee shop and pulling some bills out from his wallet. "Bone-dry cappuccino please." I grabbed the money from his hand and jumped out of the car, mumbling about how we were going to be late for work. The sun had just begun to rise above the horizon, painting everything it touched in a hazy pink light.

"Purcell's Café, Home of Seattle's Best Coffee" I read out their sign, "Yeah, you and about four-hundred other coffee shops in town." I pushed open the door, causing a delicate bell to sound my arrival. The place didn't seem too busy, probably because it was five-thirty in the morning and every sane person who wasn't a doctor was still asleep.

"What can I get you Ma'am?" a friendly woman behind a display of baked goods asked me.

"One black coffee, and a bone-dry cappuccino." She took down the order and then motioned to me to wait. I stepped off to the side, scanning the near-empty store, the homey décor, when my eyes fell upon the only other person there. A gorgeous blonde woman stood huddled in the corner nearby, her beautiful face lit up like a work of art by the virgin light of the young sun. Her arms were wrapped around herself as if she was chilled, despite the long pants and turtleneck sweater she was dressed in, and the unnaturally warm fall morning. Her baby blue eyes darted nervously around the room, as if she was scared something was coming for her. I felt compelled by curiosity, and something stronger, to go up and talk to her. As soon as I made a move to approach her, she fixed me with a frightened blue gaze.

"Hi, I'm Callie Torrez." I introduced myself, offering a friendly smile and a hand to shake. She eyed me suspiciously, and was about to move to shake my hand, when a loud car horn blared from outside. The jittery woman gave a terrified squeal, as if she had been physically slapped, and jumped about a foot in the air, her delicate features contorted as if she was about to cry. I stared daggers out at the vehicle, a silver SUV with dark tinted windows. Just then, they called the woman's order and she darted like a jackrabbit, bag and coffees in hand, out the door. My proffered hand still hung in the air, completely confused and unnerved by the interaction. I heard them call my order, and I grabbed the warm cups and paid the cashier, before heading out to Mark's waiting vehicle.

"Hey, what was that in there Cal?" he asked, taking in my spaced-out look. I was too deep in thought about the mysterious blonde to hear him. Why was she so terrified of me? She had stared at my hand like it was a foreign gesture, almost like for a second she didn't know what to do with it. And she hadn't spoken a word during our brief interaction.

"Earth to Callie?" Mark waved his hand in front of my face. She really was gorgeous, even in fear, her blue eyes were enchanting. Her blonde hair was silky and slightly wavy, perfectly framing her heart-shaped face.

"Calliope Iphig-" Mark Yelled at the top of his lungs, snapping me out of my trance just in time for me to slap a hand over his mouth.

"I thought I told you not to use my full name!" I scolded angrily.

"Hey, calm down, I just wanted to make sure you weren't having an absence seizure or something. What happened in there?" he asked, looking at me concerned as he pulled into the hospital parking lot. I sighed sadly, not quite knowing how to respond, before saying,

"Truthfully Mark, I don't know."

**A/N hmm… what's going on here? The bulk of the story is yet to be revealed! Reviews are awesome, almost as awesome as one of Arizona's super magic smiles!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N I was planning on working on my other story, Get Through, but I just couldn't stop thinking about this one! Here's another story, I hope you enjoy it!**

**-Nightshade**

**I don't own Grey's Anatomy, that pleasure belongs to Shonda Rhimes**

A Chance at Happiness

Chapter Two

"My God." I groaned, rubbing my temples in pain as the whirlwind of the ER bustled all around me.

"Long day?" Miranda Bailey drawled, striding over to where I stood.

"I can't believe I pried myself out of bed at five in the morning, to spend the entire day suturing idiots in the pit. No one's even sprained an ankle or something!" I groaned. The day seemed to be dragging by so slowly, it was unbearable.

"Enjoy the break, because next time we get hit with a mass trauma and you're so tired you're asleep on your feet, all you'll be wishing for is a little peace and quiet." The short woman dropped a chart on the counter and walked off. I looked up at the clock on the wall, silently cheering when I saw that there was only a few minutes left in my shift.

"Well, as long as it stays this qui…" I stopped, remembering one of those superstitions we surgeons had. Saying quiet in the ER is like saying Macbeth in the theatre, you're just begging for something bad to happen. I headed to the resident's locker room to change, planning on meeting up with Mark before we headed to Joe's. The good-looking plastic surgeon was waiting for me in the hospital lobby, ogling the behind of a passing nurse while wearing this Cheshire cat grin that screamed dirty thoughts.

"Keeping up your reputation Sloan?" I asked once I caught up with him.

"Just enjoying the view Cal, where to?" he asked as if we were going to a different place than we had went after work for the past few weeks.

"Joe's." I simply answered, dragging him across the street and towards the little bar. The sleek bar and ethereal glow of the neon lighting had become my port in the storm recently.

"Seriously Callie, I think there's a better way to get over Eri-ahem-she-who-shall-not-be-named, drinking yourself under the bar then picking up a random guy is not a good way to cope." Mark explained, and as usual, I ignored him.

"Here," I shoved a beer towards him, "drink something, you're no fun when your sober." I pouted, before scanning the crowded bar.

"Hey Mark, Callie, looking for your next victim already?" Joe asked as he moseyed over to where we sat. "Can I get you anything?"

"Nah, I'm staying sober tonight Joe, someone's gotta be the responsible one." Mark declined as I stirred the glass of amber liquid which seemed to magically appear in front of me. A lithe brunette walked up beside me, sharp green eyes fixing me with a look that screamed 'I'm undressing you in my head right now'.

"Hey Hon, this seat taken?" she asked, grabbing a small, colorful straw and playing with it, teasing it with her luscious lips. I considered the possibility of accepting, buying a drink for this beautiful woman with long, long legs who was obviously interested in me. But then Erica returned to my mind and all I could think of was heartbreak and sorrow.

"I'm not interested." I said flatly, before turning back towards Mark, who was currently sitting with an aghast look on his face, like I just killed his puppy.

"Are you kidding me Cal? She was like, five hundred times hotter than Ass-face, and she looked ready to jump you right then and there!" he groaned before smacking himself in the forehead.

"Jeez, dramatic much? The woman thing was just a phase, Erica leaving straightened me out." I lied through my teeth to him.

"You're lying. You know how I can tell? Because your lips are here, talking to me, instead of all over that hot chick." He seriously looked like I had let him down, which made me consider a change of friends briefly before it hit me, Mark was all I had.

"Whatever." I replied, before flagging Joe down to order another drink. Mark was drawn away from the bar by a leggy blonde who asked him to dance, leaving me alone to wallow in my sorrows.

"Hey, how 'bout I buy you a drink?" an overconfident guy drawled as he sat down in the seat Mark had just vacated. The combination of alcohol and the constant buzz of distracting stimuli in the bar around me made his face look hazy and hard to focus on, though I could make out a devilish smile. I contemplated doing what I did every night, accepting the offer before dragging the guy by the shirt collar out to my car. But somewhere within the constant hum of chatter and the clinking of glasses, the thought of the frightened blonde from the coffee shop pushed its way through. Her scared blue eyes haunted me, and I couldn't suppress the irrational feeling that I wanted to be the one to soften them, to show her there was no need to fear the world, to hold her smaller figure to mine until she felt safe. Where the hell did all that come from? She's a complete stranger, and Erica taught me that women were bad news. These thoughts emboldened me to accept the man who I left sitting there, waiting for an answer, but like an angel on my shoulder, the thought of the blonde woman made it impossible.

"No thanks." I simply said, before I jumped off the barstool where I sat, and wove through the crowd to find Mark.

"We're leaving." I dragged him by the shoulder away from the blonde he was sweet-talking and out into the sobering chill of the streets.

"Hey where's the fire, and where's your creep of the night?" we reached the car before he even got the chance to speak.

"Just shut up and drive home." I grumbled, rubbing my two fingers over the bridge of my nose in frustration. The confusion over this unnamed blonde was building inside of me like a stretching rubber band, threatening to snap at any moment. Mark went silent beside me, recognizing my chilly mood as one he shouldn't mess with. The city lights outside the car windows danced by like fireflies, streaking in and out of view before you could catch them. Most people were like that, strangers who made cameos in your life, but never made any difference. But she, she was different, she was a light so bright, so enchanting, that it couldn't be forgotten, and couldn't be left behind. I made it to my apartment, and said goodbye to Mark before entering the room on autopilot. All the thinking had just jumbled up my mind so much that it just shut down. I flung myself on top of the covers, fully clothed, and buried my face in the pillows, squeezing my eyes shut and wishing to be anywhere but here, living this life. I hardly noticed myself fall asleep. My unconscious hours were illuminated by dreams of chasing fireflies in an open field, and just as soon as my fingers enclosed the mesmerizing light, my alarm screeched out its good morning. Mark had a day off today, so I was going in on my own, and robotically I went through the morning tasks, changing clothes, packing my bag, eating breakfast, and enjoying the spare time I'd usually spend throwing lonely guys out of my apartment. It was only when I headed for the coffeemaker did it trigger a thought. The blonde and me in the coffee shop alone. Deciding to take my chance with fate, to chase that firefly, I forwent the coffee and left early, saving time for a side trip to Purcell's café. The early fall air held a bitter cold this morning, and it roused the dry leaves from their piles upon the walkways. The store was empty again, and I scanned the small space for the blonde.

"What can I get you?" the shopkeeper called, disrupting my thoughts.

"One black coffee please." I spotted the woman huddled in a booth, out of sight from the windows and most of the world. "Can you add a blueberry muffin to my order as well?" I asked on a whim, as I walked over to the corner booth.

"Hey." I greeted softly. That one word caused the skittish woman to freeze up, and shove her shirtsleeves down over her hands. She looked at me with a trembling gaze, almost as if she thought I would harm her.

"I decided to come back again today, their coffee's really good, plus this is one of the few places open at five in the morning, which is good for me because I'm a doctor and I keep some pretty weird hours." I rambled, having no idea why I was telling all this to a random stranger. She offered me a robotic nod in return.

"I'm Callie by the way, I introduced myself yesterday, but with all the commotion I wasn't sure if you caught it." She looked over her shoulder nervously, like someone was watching her before speaking.

"I'm Arizona." Her voice was small and plaintive, with a hoarseness to it, like she had been screaming. I held out my hand for her to shake, and as she extended hers to reciprocate the action, her sleeve slipped, showcasing a bright purple handprint bruise that encircled her wrist. She went stiff as stone as soon as she saw it, but I pretended not to see. It took this long to get her talking; I figured bringing up any sensitive subjects would shut her down completely.

"Arizona, like the state?" I quirked an eyebrow and offered a reassuring smile. From the subtle bit of warmth in her eyes, I could tell she's run into this topic before.

"Actually, the battleship. It's a long story." She fidgeted with her sleeves nervously as she drew patterns on the weathered wood of the tabletop with her shaky fingers. She suddenly dug her fingernails into the wood with dread as a familiar SUV pulled into the parking lot.

"Go ahead, I have the time." I offered, hoping this moment wouldn't end.

"No, seriously, I have to go." She was paralyzed with fear once more, suddenly jumping up from the table. She walked up to the counter and asked for her order impatiently. I watched her bounce on the balls of her feet like a nervous toddler, repeating fervently under her breath, "I have to go, I have to go, I have to go." like a maniac. The sarcastic voice in my head piped up, wow Callie; you really know how to pick 'em. She was told to wait a few minutes more, which seemed to distress her to the point of tears. I followed her back to the booth.

"Hey, what's wrong?" I crooned, trying to contact the spaced-out blonde.

"I'm going to be in trouble if I'm late." She whispered cryptically, only worrying me more. The person behind the cash placed my order on the counter, and I paid the appropriate amount. Clutching the still-warm muffin bag in my hand, I made my way over to Arizona's table, where she sat huddled in the corner with glazed-over blue eyes. I silently placed it on the table, pushing my offering over to where she sat.

"You looked like you needed a little something sweet." I explained feebly. I watched her stare at the bag in awe for a few seconds, like the gesture of kindness was something completely foreign to her. Slowly, a gorgeous smile blossomed upon her face, and shining blue eyes finally fixed mine. My knees felt weak as I studied their expressive blue depths, aquamarine orbs suddenly brimming with happiness. Her smile was like magic, suddenly ridding all the worry and hurt from my mind, replacing it with a contagious sense of euphoria.

"Thank you Callie." Her voice was soft and sincere, making my heart swell. I loved the way my name sounded in her voice, the way those delicate pink lips shaped the syllables like a work of art. She looked behind her again, a reminder that jerked me back into reality. This wasn't some fairytale, someone was hurting this delicate blonde woman, and that was something that a muffin couldn't fix. It was like crushing a flower's first bloom, and it struck me as such a cruel and heartless act. So as I pushed the door to the shop open, that cheery little bell tinkling in the back of my mind, I resolved that I had to do something. I had to find who was hurting this beautiful little flower, and put a stop to it.

**A/N Callie's on a mission! She and Arizona officially have met now, but where will it go from there? **


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N thank you so much for all the reviews! They're awesome, and motivate me to write faster! I'm trying to split my free time between this story and my other story, Get Through, so it's a little hard. Every time I get the ideas flowing for one story, I'm switching over to another one! Anyway, here's the next chapter, enjoy!**

**-Nightshade**

**I don't own Grey's Anatomy!**

A Chance at Happiness

Chapter Three

"Hey Cal, where were you this morning? I was doing a mandibuloplasty this morning and I saved you a spot in the OR, what gives?" Mark announced as I entered the hospital. I cringed at how loud his voice was, how it razed through my thoughts like a chainsaw.

"And what, without me you just couldn't operate?" I sarcastically fired back, sipping on my piping hot coffee. Mark puffed out his chest in indignation that I could even speak such words.

"Of course not! It was still a work of art, second only to God himself!" he crowed, showcasing his ineptitude with the concept of humility. "But seriously, you've been a little off for a day or two, is something up?" the nearby nurses craned their necks, always on the lookout for the next piece of Seattle Grace gossip. I grabbed Mark's elbow and began dragging him through the hallways, trying to avoid the prying eyes.

"Since when did you become Mr. Sensitive?" I quipped dryly, dodging an incoming gurney.

"Since you spent weeks screwing guys and shoving tequila down your throat, then all of a sudden you're walking around with your head in the clouds and dragging me from bars!" he exclaimed, before I dragged him by the collar into an on-call room.

"Maybe I've moved on…" I trailed off, blushing at the thought of admitting what I wanted to admit. That I was developing a crush on a bruised and battered woman I barely knew. A glint of understanding flickered through Mark's eyes.

"Okay, I'm good with that; I don't have a surgery for the next few hours so I have some time to kill." He had said before ripping his shirt over his head and going for the tie on his pants. Suddenly understanding where he was going with this, I shoved him away before covering my eyes with my hands.

"Whoa! Eww! Seriously Mark, when does on-call room plus moving on equal sex?" I cried.

"Umm, since I dubbed myself President of the Dirty Mistresses Club, and Seattle Grace's resident sex machine?" he groaned as if it was the obvious answer.

"Well I don't need a sex machine, I need my friend, so shut up and put your shirt back on!" I was yelling now, frustrated by how stupid he was behaving. The room seemed to be getting smaller and smaller as the seconds ticked by, and I paced the length of it anxiously.

"Y'know the day we went to the coffee shop in the morning?" I waited until he nodded yes, to make sure he was still listening. "While I was in there I met a woman, Arizona, she had the most gorgeous blonde hair, like golden silk, and these addictive blue eyes. But she was fearful, she was so quiet and it was almost like she was afraid something would jump out from behind her. And I went this morning, and I saw a bruise on her wrist, in the shape of a hand." Mark was shaking his head in frustration as I paced and told my story.

"Callie, are you seriously telling me that you have a thing for a stranger with abuse issues?" he groaned from where he sat. I was half-tempted to swat him upside the head, feeling the need to defend Arizona, but I held back.

"Hey! I can't do nothing! I can't notice this and abandon her!" I shrieked. I couldn't fathom the idea of Arizona enduring the horrible physical abuse my mind was oh-so adept at conjuring up. Mark stood up all of a sudden taking me by the shoulders and forcing me to look him in the eyes.

"Hey, I wasn't finished. This is an outrageous idea, she's a stranger whom you barely know, but I'm your best friend. I'm on your side, I'm always on your side." He affirmed, and I felt myself tearing up. The moment practically begged for a friendly hug, and l leaned in quickly as my pager buzzed. 911, of course.

"Thank you Mark!" I called, before dashing out the door, down into the ER, which was of course, buzzing with activity. Cristina Yang waved me over, to an elderly man on a gurney.

"This is Gerald Hewick, 67. Broken hip secondary to a syncopal episode of unknown cause. His EKGs had some abnormalities, so I'm your cardio consult." She announced dryly, plopping a chart unceremoniously in my hands.

"Did you do any labs?" I asked, shifting through the papers.

"Yep. Signs are indicative of a heart attack, plain and simple, I don't even know why they paged me here, there's an abdominal aortic aneurysm repair going on in OR 2 and I had prime seats!" she exclaimed as we wheeled the man into pre-op

"Hey, this man deserves our help!" I hissed, embarrassed to have her mouthing off in front of a patient.

"Jeez, what's been eating at you, besides the endless string of men coming in and out of our apartment?" my God, what am I going to do with this woman?

"Yang, shut it!" I growled. We rolled the man into surgery, and draped his hip for prep. The purplish bruises across his hip where he fell and hit the ground. Suddenly, I could no longer see the slightly wrinkled face of my patient, but the pristine blue eyes of Arizona, staring back at me in fear. My breathing hitched, and I couldn't get the sound of her voice out of my head. Begging me to help when I could do no more. The bruises were everywhere, bruises and blood, blood on my hands, staining my clothes, my skin, because I couldn't do any more.

"Yang?" I called, backing away from the table, rigid as a statue.

"What's up Torres?" she called, just leaving the scrub room.

"I need you to call Dr. Goldman, or Dr. Francs, I'm not scrubbing in, and this is a routine surgery." I told her, leaving the OR while trying to block out Arizona's cries.

"What the hell?" she gestured madly with her gloved hands. I shook my head, pushing past the small woman. All I wanted was to get out of here. I was walking quickly out the hallway, before breaking into a run. It wasn't until I reached the hospital parking lot that it occurred to me. I couldn't do anything to help Arizona, I didn't know her home address, I didn't know her phone number, heck I didn't even know her last name. She was a woman in a tricky situation that I didn't even know the full extent of, what good was I? How could I do anything?

**A/N argh! It's rushed, and incredibly short. But I'm building up to something important I swear!**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N I had to post this chapter, leaving it where I would have left it just didn't seem right!**

**-Nightshade**

**I don't own Grey's Anatomy!**

A Chance at Happiness

Chapter Four

The next day started at four in the morning, I was so preoccupied that it was impossible to get any sleep. It was almost painful to lie awake all night, feeling my stomach twist and knot in ways that it shouldn't. When hours lying in bed had passed, and I hadn't even gotten a glimpse of the sunlight kissing its way over the horizon, I gave up sleeping and just passed the time tidying and listening to music. I had been given the day off after my less-than-professional exit from the surgery, not that I really wanted to go back too soon. Of course, the rumor mill would be full of people collecting money after winning bets on how soon after Erica's departure would I fall apart. A piercing scream broke the silent air and I dashed to the window, fully expecting to see Arizona stumbling down the sidewalk bleeding. Instead, I got a glimpse of two high school-age girls, squealing over some sort of 'monumental' news. Why can't I get her off my mind?

"What I wouldn't give for some peace and quiet, I feel like I'm going crazy with all these voices in my head!" I growled under my breath

"Although I suppose talking to yourself is a sign of craziness as well…" I added, pacing around the living room. In my haze, I happened to walk right into the table leg, slamming my shin and stubbing my toes, as well as knocking free a lamp.

"My God Torres it's early! I don't care how crazy you are, just shut up!" Yang yelled angrily from her room.

"Thanks for the support Yang!" I yelled back at her, just needing to vent. Instead I jumped in my car and drove. Apparently this café stays open twenty-four-seven, because the lights were shining cheerily in the darkness of the early morning. No one was in there, except the owner of course, and I felt my heart drop.

"Hey, you're in early, what can I get ya?" the friendly woman called out.

"Nothing right now, I just…"

"Needed a place to get away?" she asked, and I nodded my head yes. I slid into one of the booths, feeling my eyelids sag beneath the weight of too many hours spent awake. The world grew fuzzy, so that when I heard the bell tinkle from over the door, signaling the arrival of a person, I barely lifted my head.

"Callie?" a soft voice called, one that perked me up immediately. Arizona stood before me, shivering from the cold, with a jacket wrapped so tight around her it could suffocate, and a bright red mark on her cheek, from a slap.

"Oh, Arizona what happened?" I gasped, unable to resist reaching out to touch her. She stiffened on instinct as soon as I moved, so I tried a different approach.

"Hey, I'm a doctor, I just want to make sure nothing's broken." I crooned softly, as her crystalline eyes bored into mine.

"It's not, I would know, I've had a broken jaw before." She stated in a monotone voice. All that was going through my head was "god what else did they do to you?" I must have said it out loud or something, because she got extremely defensive, leaping up from the table.

"It's none of your business! I hardly know you anyway!" she raised her voice, causing me to shrink back into my seat. I had never heard her talk any louder than a whisper.

"I only want to help you!"

"I don't need your help! I'm dealing with it okay! Is that what you wanted to hear? I can deal with it, I can take it!" she was screaming now, tears streaming from her eyes. Guilt burned a hole in the bottom of my stomach, burning and devouring my insides when I realized I had done this, I was the one to make her cry.

"You shouldn't have to take it." I pointed out quietly. All of a sudden, her rage escalated, she flung a salt shaker off the table and over my head, smashing it against the wall into a million shiny shards.

"You're damn right! You're always right! I see why you became a doctor Callie! But it's not that fucking simple!" she wheeled around and ran out the door, the cheery tinkling of the bell sounding awkward and out of place now. I stood there dumbly, with my mouth hanging open, trying to comprehend what had just happened. She had just exploded, just like that, leaving me behind with the wreckage. And I had no idea where to begin to clean up.

"Try the park out back." The woman behind the counter said.

"What?"

"I saw her coming in, saw the bruises, I tried to talk to her about it, and that's where she went when she got mad at me." she clarified.

"Thank you…" I trailed off, realizing I didn't know her name.

"Sally." She completed. "I've seen that woman coming here for months, if you want to try and help her please, do it right." She said softly before I was dashing out the door. I saw that there was a small green space near the café, with benches and trees and a small pond that had iced over with the thinnest layer of frost possible, so only the leaves could rest on top. There was an unruly mop of blonde hair curled up on one of the benches, so I went over, seeing her shivering once again from the cold. She gave me a look, the composure in her deep blue eyes as thin and breakable as the ice on the pond.

"I want to help you, because it hurts me to see you in pain." I admitted to her, before sliding on the bench beside her. She was crying again, keeping her distance from me, like she was afraid of being touched. I placed my hand on her slight, bony shoulder, feeling her freeze up under the contact.

"I won't hurt you, it's alright." Those words were almost like magic, causing her to not only lean into the contact, but grab the lapels of my leather jacket and pull herself inwards to cry on my chest.

"Afterwards, he says he loves me. I'll be sore and aching and he'll touch me as if I'm made of glass. It's my fault anyway, if I didn't make him mad, then he wouldn't have to hurt- to do what he does. But he does love me, he stays with me despite how angry I make him, and he tells me that all the time when I'm hurting." She whimpered, as she told her story, or at least, part of it.

"That's not love Hon, he's lying to you." I reassured, simply reveling in the close contact between us. I thought for a moment, sitting in silence while her tears died down.

"I have one sister, whom I never see, just like the rest of my family. I love being a surgeon because I love saving lives, even though the weight and sorrow when one of my patients die is sometimes too much to take, I still love it, because it makes me treasure my own life. My only pet was a grey tabby cat with blue eyes I rescued off the street, named Sierra, though she ran away the day before I left for university. My favorite color is teal, because it's sophisticated yet colorful, and has the calmness of blue and the vibrancy of green all in one. My favorite time of year is autumn, because I love the smell of fresh-fallen leaves, and those cold days where the rain is like ice, and it makes the loudest smacking noises against the roof, and Halloween, I love the costumes and the decorations, and just the happiness." Arizona sat up and looked at me funny, releasing a tense giggle.

"What was all that?" she asked confusedly. After all, I did just bombard her with all these random facts about my life.

"You said in the café that you hardly knew me. Now you know a little more about me" I simply stated, watching her face break out in an uncontrollable grin, so happy it couldn't be repressed or hidden.

"I like Halloween too, though I like the candy the best. My old roommates in university found it hilarious that I went to all the candy sales, buying huge boxes of sweets meant for little kids, and then I'd just bring them all home and eat them. Now you know a little more about me too." She grinned.

"Hmm… a grown woman with the sweet tooth of an overexcited seven year old, you don't run into those every day…" I joked, and the blonde beside me gave a soft shove. I looked over at her, curled up on the bench, giving me this adorable pout. I knew right then and there, that whether she was straight or gay, I was a goner. We settled into the silence comfortably, watching out breath float like clouds upon the frigid air.

"I'll have to go soon." She whimpered, shattering the mood. I fished around in my jacket pocket, before finding my cell phone.

"You put your number in mine, and I'll put my number in yours. I don't care what time it is, or how insignificant the thing is, let me know, talk to me, okay? I do want to help you." she pulled a small device from her pocket and passed it to me, letting me plug in my number and initials. 'Please, don't be afraid to give me a call." I urged.

"It's not you I'm afraid of." She said, her voice chilled by her fear and the cold. She got up, and strode over to the coffee shop, where the silver SUV would be waiting, containing the puppet master of her torture. I watched her disappear into the morning haze, her footsteps leaving prints in the frosty grass, squishing it down wherever she walked. The grass slowly recovered from its stomping, returning to normal as she disappeared around the bend. If it wasn't for her number in my cell, I would have thought I'd imagined all that. An acorn fell from a nearby tree, skipping out onto the pond and cracking the delicate ice. I watched it break and drift away, as the rising sun glinted off the jagged edges. A single birdsong broke the silence, and suddenly the illusion of perfection, that little bubble I had been floating in, had popped. I hadn't expected any form of communication from Arizona, as for the next few days we still shared mornings, small talk, and spots in the hidden booth. But one day, she didn't show up. When on my way to the hospital, my phone buzzed multiple times. Picking it up, it was a series of texts.

_Hey Callie, I need to meet with you, how about the park behind Purcell's?_

_Callie, come quick, I'm scared_

_Help me! _

I tried calling her number, but the only response was the dead buzz of the dial tone. I pulled a U-turn and headed back to the café, driving dangerously, and way too fast. I was five minutes away from the park, when the pager on my hip angrily buzzed, bleeping like swear words on TV. It was a nine-one-one, urgent; I needed to be there as soon as possible. Stuck between a rock and a hard place, I heard it going off again, I was desperately needed. I was a doctor by trade, I trained for half my life, when someone's in danger you're trained to know exactly what to do. It becomes instinct, it overrides what instincts you were born with, it's a choice I could make in my sleep if it was any other situation. I couldn't neglect my duty, I couldn't let someone's wife, husband, son or daughter die on my negligence. So I wheeled around once more, and listening to my head over my heart, I peeled away for the hospital.

**A/N I needed to get this chapter up after my not-so-satisfactory last one. but the looming question is, what the heck's happened to Arizona?**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N thank you for all the reviews and for patiently waiting for the next chapter! I usually hate cliffhangers, but I truly couldn't resist that last one. A quick shout-out to any Canadian readers out there (or anyone else who happens to celebrate it this weekend) Happy thanksgiving! I hope you have oodles of things to be thankful for!**

**-Nightshade**

**I don't own Grey's Anatomy, if I did I would be coming up with some happier episodes, I can't watch any of the recent episodes without having a tissue box on hand, and it's getting kinda depressing!**

A Chance at Happiness

Chapter Five

The ER was a ghost town when I had arrived, freakishly quiet, and for a moment I got angry for them paging me in when probably every doctor on the floor was sitting around twiddling their thumbs or getting laid in various on-call rooms to pass the time. The lights on the ambulance parked outside were left spinning in the rush, painting the quiet space in urgent flashes of red and blue that bombarded my already overstimulated mind. Relax Callie, I have a plan. Get in, do the stupid consult or fix whatever the intern broke, and then drive like a maniac to meet Arizona and hope that she held up long enough. There was a cluster of doctors outside a trauma room, the Chief stood outside of the tightly drawn shutters talking in hushed, urgent tones. He caught sight of me and waved me over, not a hint of life on his grave face.

"As I was saying Dr. Torres, the injuries with this patient are extremely severe…" I hope Arizona didn't think I abandoned her, because that's the last thing I want.

"…you need to maintain the utmost composure and sensitivity…" was she being abused by a husband? Fiancé? Boyfriend? Parent? What important person in her life suddenly decided to take it over and destroy it?

"… the patient will require extensive rehabilitation, both physical and emotional…" every hollow thud of my heart made it harder to just stand here while Chief Webber talked, knowing it was one more heartbeat of god-knows-what that Arizona had to endure because I couldn't be there, because my job is awful and the universe hates me.

"…prepare yourselves, for some of you here this may be one of the worst cases in your entire medical career." Webber finished, and I suddenly realized I zoned out for his entire speech. Now I seriously had no idea why I was needed so desperately. Everyone seemed intimidated by the idea of entering the room, and after a few seconds of standing around the open door, we filed in. It wasn't the twisted, broken bones that caused the panic and the nausea, nor was it the bright red bloodstains on the gurney and floor, or the dark purple bruising over every visible inch of her skin, making this woman look like some sort of bluish, swollen alien from another planet, or the fact she was flopping around like a fish out of water, seizing while people held her steady and examined her pupils for severe brain damage. It was only when the nurse holding her left arm and the doctor hovering around her head moved off to the side, and I got the slightest glimpse of bloodstained sunny blonde hair and crystal blue eyes rolling back in her head as she thrashed violently, did it hit me. The realization at who lay in front of me stole the breath from my lungs, it drop-kicked me in the gut, dizzied my vision, and squeezed my stomach, so that on the inside, I was certain I looked just as mangled as the person who lay dying in front of me.

"Jane Doe, found in a park near a local coffee shop, she's been brutally raped and beaten. Her vital signs were nonexistent when we arrived, but we regained a pulse while on route. Began seizing when we arrived here, displayed a blown right pupil, and a rapidly dilating left one. Pulse ox is low, and heartbeat was erratic until a unit of LR was administered." The paramedic rattled this off while someone documented it for her chart. All of a sudden the room exploded into a frenzy.

"Ultrasound shows massive cardiac contusions, a pericardial effusion along with some air in the pleura-" Yang announced while tapping at a monitor.

"Get her up to CT so I can get a picture of her brain; see what kind of bleeding I'm looking at." Shepherd barked, about to wheel the gurney away when Bailey pulled him back.

"By the time you get her up to CT she'll be dead of internal bleeding, her abdominal organs have taken a hammering, it's like this bastard took steel-toed boots to her." She grumbled in disgust.

"I'm going to need some X-rays of her face so I can determine what type of damage we have and whether it's repairable, a broken nose and cheekbone are for certain though." Sloan interjected as he fought for a space to see her scans, laid up on the wall. Having them there only showed how messed up she was, showcasing massive traumatic fractures, new and old. An orthopedic surgeon's dream, usually.

"Hunt, you're on point!" the chief called out over the ruckus. Everyone was fighting over what needs to be tested or operated on first, yelling back and forth about Jane Doe this and Jane Doe that, until I snapped, drawing in as big a breath as possible before yelling out over the crowd.

"Her name is Arizona, not Jane Doe!" I screeched, everyone turning to face me, the crazy ortho surgeon who's yelling at the top of her lungs. "So quit arguing over her like she's a doll you have to take turns with, and just fix her the hell up!" I barged out of the room, wiping away tears and holding back my nausea. I sat on a gurney in the hallway with my head between my knees, trying to regain some sense of composure.

"This is her, isn't it? The woman in the coffee shop, the one you have a thing on, the one who's being abused?" Mark asked, walking to me like a kicked puppy. I nodded, unable to form words should tears slip out of the cracks. "We need you in surgery Cal, I've seen her scans, and you have a lot of work cut out for you. If you truly love her and want what's best for her, you have to think about her now, her needs." He held out his hand for me to grab, and I used it to pull myself off the gurney, before being yanked into a hug. We took off sprinting for the trauma room, meeting everyone else just as they wheeled her out.

'Do we have a plan?" I asked, receiving nods from everyone around me. We wheeled her straight into the OR, and as they prepped her meds and scrubbed, I gave Arizona the once-over. She appeared to have a spiral fracture in her one wrist, on one of the legs all the bones were shattered, I would have some serious work on my hands. But I needed to do it, for Arizona. Her captivating orbs slid open just a touch as we prepared to anaesthetize her, and her bloody, swollen lips moved ever so slightly.

"C-Callie…" she stuttered, as I moved her hospital gown around to probe her injuries, accidentally exposing a gleaming piece of rib sticking out of a gash in her side.

"Arizona, it's okay, you're in amazing hands, and I'll be with you every step of the way." I reassured as I pulled the papery mask over my nose and mouth. She grasped my forearm with a vise-grip unlike anyone I had seen with broken limbs before.

"Y-You D,d,di,di,d-no-N-no Co-me?" she questioned, breaking my heart with those few simple words. I heard her heart flutter on the monitor, before a loud droning beep filled the space. Her grip on my arm went slack, and I pumped on her chest while they prepared the defibrillator to shock her.

"Charge to two-hundred joules! Clear!" Yang yelled as she shocked the limp body, causing Arizona to dance like a reanimated corpse before flopping dead again, the leads on the monitor drawing out zigzag after zigzag of meaningless v-fib.

"Charge to three-hundred joules! Clear!" Yang shocked her again, with the same nothing happening. Come on Arizona, this is the moment of truth! I would do anything to get the dead, stagnant noise of death on the monitor out of my head. The whirr of the defibrillator started up again, and I sent a silent prayer to whoever may care to listen. With the fury of a woman on a mission, Yang dove for those paddles, pressing them to Arizona's chest before yelling out,

"Charge to three-sixty joules! Clear!"

**A/N yes, I know, another cliffy, I'm just that horrible of a person ;) I'm joking of course, but please review, your feedback means the world to me!**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N wow! I received a lot of reviews on the last chapter, and the unanimous agreement among all them was: UPDATE SOON! So here it is, I hope you enjoy it, and I apologize for all the cliffhangers!**

**-Nightshade**

**I don't own Grey's Anatomy!**

A Chance at Happiness

Chapter Six

"_Charge to three-sixty joules, clear!" _

Yang had shouted, applying the paddles and shocking Arizona. Her voice was watery; I could barely hear it, like it had been going on worlds away from me. All I could focus on was the limp way the beautiful blonde thrashed, the way the harsh lights of the OR painted against her bruises, the grating cough that came from the table as she finally regained consciousness. I rushed over to her side, accidentally shoving Bailey out of the way as the rest of the room exploded into action.

"Let's put her under people, we need to get in there!" Hunt barked out. I was staring into Arizona's hazy eyes, darting around frantically before they found mine. She tried to talk again, but all that escaped her lips was a thin trail of blood, painting a red streak down her pale purple cheek.

"Shh, it's okay, we'll fix you up just fine. Just relax, I'll be there when you wake up." I watched the smoky haze in her eyes grow thicker as the drugs kicked in, putting her to sleep.

"Torres, I need you up here with me, I'm going to be looking at multiple broken ribs and from what I saw on her X-rays, one of them may be tamponading a tear in her ventricle." Yang's sentences were quick and succinct, and I knew very well what she was doing. She liked to have others think she was a robot, emotionless, cold, although cases like this one brought emotions out of all of us. So she had to lock down whatever she was feeling, and see the patient as a slab of meat, a simple challenge, cut, suture close. Her insensitivity just came with that approach. I cringed internally as she made the incision, drawing a huge, red line from her abdomen to her chest. Bailey and Hunt were focused on the abdominal injuries, currently scrambling beneath the sterile light to control a deep liver laceration and a ruptured spleen. I couldn't look the other way, unable to watch Shepherd and Grey cut through her scalp and access her brain. I just focused on what lay in front of me, the mess of cracked white arches that used to be a ribcage.

"Sternal saw." Cristina beckoned with an empty hand, a scrub nurse placing the heavy tool there instantly. I tried not to hear the grating sound of metal gnashing against bone, instead trying to focus on the question Bailey just asked me.

"Pardon?" I managed to squeak. The acrid scent of burning flesh from the cautery was currently assailing my senses, making me want to run away and be sick.

"I asked where you knew her from?" she glanced up from her work, taking in my confused expression. "Oh come on Torres, a blind person could see you care for her, you don't just feel that way about an absolute stranger." Does she really wanna bet? "Besides, you were the only one who knew her name, it was a dead giveaway." She muttered the last part in her signature 'Duh' Bailey tone. No sooner had I turned back to the open chest cavity, was I slapped in the face by a hot wet spray. Blood was quickly filling the surgical field.

"Damnit! A rib hit her aorta and it ruptured. Suction!" Cristina was yelling, unable to see through the thick red liquid. "I'm going to cross-clamp the aorta proximally and distally to the tear so I can throw in a suture!" she continued ordering, while a nurse called out her vitals.

"She's getting hypotensive!"

"Hang a unit of FFP and PRBC's!" Bailey cried, nurses scrambling like ants to try and retrieve the materials, working just as hard as we are to save her life.

"I can't find the lesion, I need more suction!" I fished through the blood, which seemed to be flowing faster than ever, slipping through my fingers. Arizona's battered, frantic heart was fluttering so fast that it nearly matched the fever pitch my own was probably going at.

"Got it! I need three-o silk" Yang announced, her hands moving like lightning as she threw the suture in, looking like an experienced attending and not some third-year resident.

"Good job Yang." Bailey praised, her face shining like a proud mother whose child just won their first talent show or soccer tournament.

"Thanks, I saw Dr. Hahn do it once, probably one of the few things she ever allowed me to learn." She explained dryly, before glancing at me. She must have seen the hurt in my eyes at the mention of Erica, so she immediately backpedaled.

"I'm sorry Callie, I didn't mean to-"

"It's fine Yang, she's gone and I'm over it. Can we please move on and focus on saving this woman?" I asked curtly. She gave a nod, a rare glimpse of remorse in her focused, dark eyes. I heard the slight beeping of the monitor, pulling me back into the present and out of my memories of Erica.

"What's going on?" I demanded, scanning the OR, looking for the problem.

"She has a bleed in her frontal lobe; intercerebral bleeds often have a delayed presentation, so we're only catching it now. Her ICP's going up, Grey get me some bone wax, someone push 50 of mannitol!" Derek called, a nurse immediately inserting the needle into her IV line. The staccato, frantic beeping slowed, eventually stopping altogether, not that it really registered.

"Dr. Torres? You can breathe now." Shepherd looked up at me, where I released the breath I wasn't aware I had been holding.

"Okay, her abdominal injuries have been stabilized." Owen announced, reminding us all that he's in charge.

"Her brain bleeding has been controlled Dr. Hunt." Meredith called from Arizona's head.

"Her cardiac injuries have been dealt with, her lungs and heart are clear." Yang informed from where she stood across from me.

"Her broken ribs have been stabilized, the only thing I have left to do is work on her fractured tib-fib, the other broken bones won't need surgical reduction." I announced, already stepping down from my post so I could work on her leg. While the others did final checks and closed up, I pieced together the thousand-piece jigsaw puzzle that was her lower leg. Most surgeons would amputate, say that there was too much damage, but I wasn't most surgeons. I had the patience to sit and piece every bit together before affixing the external fixation hardware, because I wanted Arizona to walk again. I wanted a future where she could stand up to kiss me, or run into my arms, or walk the dog we'd share in our house with a white picket fence. Quite frankly, I had no idea where these ideas came from, why I would even want to consider getting involved with a woman again, but the one thing I knew for certain, was that I'd sit there until my vision went blurry and my hands went numb if that's what it takes for her too keep her leg. By the time I scrubbed out, I was that tired, I just wanted to curl up in a ball and hope the rest of the world overlooks me. But I couldn't have Arizona wake up without me there; I promised her I'd be there. I broke that promise once before, I sure as hell wasn't going to do it a second time. So it was semi-convenient that after her surgery I was scheduled to put the cast on her broken arm, as well as do her sutures. Though before I did any patient-related things, I figured that a cup of coffee to wake me up would be the best way to avoid a medical negligence lawsuit.

"The usual Craig." I asked the boy behind the coffee cart in the lobby, fishing the bills from my pocket when a flash of silver caught my eye. I stared out the wall of windows in the front of the hospital, my eyes fixed like a laser on the familiar silver SUV with tinted windows, along with the man leaning up against the side.

"Hold on a sec Craig." I stalked over to the windows, seeing the man in more detail. He was wearing sunglasses, which slipped forward slightly to reveal a blackened eye. His hands were clenched at fists at his side, highlighting the array of bright purple bruising and cuts across his knuckles.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me!" I snarled, running out to the front of the hospital and over to his car, the pure rage and bloodlust burning in my brain had scared away any logic.

"Hey, do I know you?" he asked in an arrogant voice, obviously not comprehending my angry expression. Wordlessly, smoothly, I grabbed him and held him in a choke hold against the car, my face inches from his. I was disgusted to be breathing the same air as him. Up close, I could notice things about him that I couldn't see from far away, like the rough stubble that peppered his cheeks and jaw, the way his nostrils flared when he breathed hard, how the perfectly combed black hair and nail scratches across his pale cheek and neck contrasted ironically.

"What the hell lady?" he growled, I only forced him harder against the car.

"What's wrong? Don't like it when the girls hit back eh?" his leg raised ever so slightly to try and kick me out of the way, but I immediately kicked him in the shin, letting it clang hollowly against the car.

"You can't do that to me!" he pompously yelled.

"Yeah, well I must have missed the memo, the same way you seem to have forgotten that beating women's not exactly the way to say 'I love you honey'." I crinkled my nose at the awful smell of stale cigarettes coming from his impeccably pressed shirt. He was a walking façade.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Even through the dark glasses I could feel his arrogant gaze burning into mine.

"Maybe this'll give you a reminder!" I swung my fist into his face, feeling the satisfying smack of flesh on flesh. "Is that how you touched her? Look at me you ass-face!" I spat, readying for another punch.

"Doctor Torres!" the shrill voice of Dr. Bailey sliced through the aggressive atmosphere. Crap, I was so screwed. I'd be on probation as well as blacklisted for the rest of my career if this incident got out. That implying I'm even allowed to keep my job.

"This woman just assaulted me!" the man beneath me wailed, playing the pity card perfectly. He's a chameleon, becoming what people want to see, hiding his true colors; I see why no one noticed Arizona was being beaten.

"I happened to see something different entirely. I saw you strike your head against the side mirror of your car, and Dr. Torres here came to make sure you're okay. Since you appear to be fine, you can move along now, make space for urgent patients who need the help. Go!" she pulled out her classic Bailey sternness, the voice that made attendings cower and interns run for cover. The man gave me another glare before brushing himself off and grabbing the handle of his car door.

"Crazy bitch." He muttered as he shut the door, pulling out of the parking space and streaking out of the lot. I looked at Bailey, trying not to wither under her gaze.

"How did you know I was here?" I asked, beginning to walk back to the coffee cart to pick up my abandoned beverage.

"I'm Dr. Bailey, I see everything, I know everything." She smiled enigmatically before heading over to the elevators. "Torres!" she calls out, causing my head to snap up. "Arizona should be waking up any minute now, get your tired ass up there." She scolded warmly, causing a small smile to spread across my face. So coffee and suture kits in hand, I made my way to Arizona's room, determined to be there when my princess woke up.

**A/N I was planning on putting some more Calzona interaction in here, but I seriously couldn't fit it, so Arizona's awakening will be in the next update. I apologize if the medical stuff isn't right, but I did as much research I could do short of actually getting a medical degree! Hmm… what do you think about Callie going all cage-fighter on Arizona's husband/fiancé/boyfriend's ass? She's a tough one eh?**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N I'm sorry for the long wait, but this week's been strangely exhausting, and it's tricky to keep up sometimes!**

**-Nightshade**

**I don't own Grey's Anatomy!**

A Chance at Happiness

Chapter Seven

Arizona's room was strangely quiet, void of all the hustle and bustle of her OR. I made it to the familiar glass walls of the ICU, and without even looking in I could tell which room was hers. It was the room with the small clump of not-so-subtly gossiping interns gathered mere meters away from the open door. I was angered by the sight of their beady eyes stalking the blonde, whispering amongst themselves, feeding off her suffering like vultures.

"I heard all this was done by her husband…"

"You seriously think one man did all this?"

"Wonder what she did to get it this bad…"

"Excuse me, but SHE has a name, and feelings, and just because she's unconscious doesn't mean you all get free reign to sit around outside her room and gawk at her like a zoo animal! Now go find a life to save before I have you all mopping vomit for the rest of your medical careers!" I shrieked angrily, watching the wide-eyed young doctors scatter like dandelion seeds to the wind. Arizona's room was silent again, and right in the middle in a pristine white bed, lay the blonde herself. The bruises on her face had set in the short time since her surgery, and now they were a slightly swollen, glaring purple. I pulled the casting materials over to her bedside, before picking up her limp arm. Anyone could tell it was broken; it was swollen to almost double the size, and colored like some sort of Jackson Pollock piece. With a skill accumulated from years of working with broken bones, I set and casted the arm in a clean white, plaster sheath. I looked up to see her violet eyelids scrunch up, as she let out a near-imperceptible moan.

"Arizona? It's okay, you're in the hospital, it's me, Callie." I called, holding her freshly casted hand.

"…hurts…" she mumbled out from between leaden lips.

"Do you want me to up your morphine?" I offered. Her eyelids suddenly flew open, blue eyes crystalline with panic.

"No! I… I don't like the dreams." She explained, averting her gaze. "You weren't there. I called and you weren't there, you said you'd be there if I called." Her soft voice broke my heart with each delicate syllable.

"I got the texts, I was on my way but the traffic… by the time I was close to the coffee shop my pager was lighting up like a Christmas tree, it was a nine-one-one, it was your nine-one-one." I watched the emotions ripple across her face as she thought. She twisted her head to face the window to the outdoors, highlighting a nasty-looking bite mark on her neck.

"Can you open the window?" her delicate voice asked.

"Arizona, it's freezing cold outside, it's snowing!" I wondered how hard she hit her head.

"It's snowing, I like the snow." She exclaimed as if it was obvious. I stood up and roughly yanked the window open before being slapped in the face by a wall of cold air.

"Better?" I asked, to which she hardly nodded her head, too busy taking in the sensation of the cold kisses upon her face. I fiddled anxiously with my hands, not sure whether she was okay with the hand holding thing or not, when she grabbed my injured hand.

"What did you do? Since when are you a wrestler?" she lay back in bed, smiling a small smile that barely touched her eyes.

"I umm… may have punched out that mysterious man who drives that silver SUV?" I talked all at once, the words spilling out all at once, jumping over each other in their race to be heard.

"You what? Callie you may as well have just hit me! He's going to kill me when I go home!" she retaliated angrily, hoisting herself out of bed, her eyes staring daggers into mine.

"No he isn't because I won't let him breathe the same air as you. You aren't going home Arizona." I softly touched one of the many angry bite marks that peppered her neck and shoulders, feeling her muscles tense beneath my hand.

"Rick's all I've got, my home, and him are all I have, I can't hold down a job, I have no friends, I have no one." a fat tear rolled down her cheek, and she wiped it away defiantly before it had the chance to even enjoy its newfound freedom.

"You have me; I'm not going anywhere Arizona." I spoke with fervor now, willing her to believe me.

"Then be here Callie! Be here for me!" she begged, struggling to hold the tears at bay. I opened my mouth to speak when my damned pager beeped again.

"I-oh, that's your labs." I felt as if I could shrink back into the chair and disappear. "But I'll be back, I promise you. Cross my heart." I watched her weakly lift her good hand and reach to the space right above my left breast, before tracing an X over the spot.

"There, now it's official." She gave me a slightly brighter smile before withdrawing, and I couldn't help but emulate it. Her happiness is infectious. I walked out into the hallway, where one Miranda Bailey was standing guard.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, watching her careful gaze take in every inch of my standing figure.

"I saw a tidal wave of interns rushing through the ER, thought I'd investigate. It takes a little work to be the omniscient Dr. Bailey." She drawled slowly, her eyes betraying that she had more to say. I held stable for a few seconds more, hovering beneath her gaze before folding.

"What is it?" I groaned.

"I saw you in there with Arizona. Do not tell me that I have another Denny Duquette situation on my hands!" she threw up her hands, widening her stance before fixing me with the laser-like burn of her glare.

"This is in no way similar to Denny Duquette!" I retaliated, the name triggering painful memories of Erica and my last argument.

"You sure?" the memory pulling at my heart. I brushed past her dismissively, unable to stay there any longer.

"I have labs to pick up Bailey." I excused. I rushed down to the blood lab, ignoring the stares and whispers from passers-by. Gossip in this hospital spreads faster than anthrax, and it proves to be just as painful. The papers at least gave me an excuse to hide my eyes. Arizona looked to be asleep when I returned, completely comfortable in the frigid room, the hostile atmosphere. She just shrunk under the blankets and shut her eyes and took what was given to her. In a weird way, I admired that, she was so brave and strong. As soon as my fingers skimmed hers she latched onto my hand, her eyes opening a crack.

"Calliope…"

"Where'd you find that out?" I asked, confused to her calling me by my full name.

"Lab coat." She explained, pointing to where my name was embroidered. "You came back…" she struggled to stay conscious, her sleepy expression was adorable. I traced an X over my heart just as she'd done before. I wasn't leaving her again; I wasn't going to let her down.

"I promised. Cross my heart." she let out a soft chuckle before fading off to sleep, her hand still tangled in my lab coat. An errant thought wandered through my head, and I buzzed a nurse over.

"Can you get me some white paper and scissors?" I asked, watching the puzzled expression wash over the older woman's face before she nodded. The white squares were delivered to Arizona's bedside minutes later, and I went at them with surgical precision, snipping at the folded paper like I had seen the kids in Peds do at Christmas. I was determined that next time the beautiful blonde awoke; she'd finally have something to really smile about.

**A/N it was short, I know, but I hoped that the sooner update would outweigh the short chapter! Read and review pretty please!**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N Ack! I know, I'm a terrible person for leaving you all hanging this long! I really hate getting behind in my writing! A lot of stuff's been going on between school, and personal issues, and all that other… reality. But I doubt you want to hear about that, so I'll move along to the good stuff!**

**-Nightshade**

**Of course I own Grey's Anatomy… nope, sorry, that's a lie! Don't own it!**

A Chance at Happiness

Chapter Eight

I had sat next to Arizona the entire time she was asleep, waiting with a grin full of childlike excitement, for her to wake up and see the results of my little crafting endeavor. At last, like rainclouds, swollen with splendor and pride, approaching a drought-stricken town, her misty blue eyes fluttered open. Regarding my hand holding hers as normal already, she instead scanned the room, no doubt surveying my handiwork.

"Whaddya think?" I drawled sleepily, slightly regretting not being able to nap.

"Did you do all this?" she asked her voice full of awe. I nodded emphatically before turning around to look at my little creations. Delicately cut paper snowflakes were stuck on the walls, even a few dangling from the ceiling, each one uniquely intricate.

"They're so detailed…" she trailed off, holding the closest one between her fingers and examining the multitudes of interwoven diamond shapes cut out of the white paper. I simply shrugged.

"I'm a surgeon, I cut things for a living." I excused, while watching her scan the room again, with confused eyes.

"But… Why?"

"Because I was hoping all this would give you a little opportunity to smile. You said you liked the snow." I gave her a shy grin while I watched her smile widen enormously until it lit up her eyes, hovering like this until some little thought seemed to snuff it all out.

"You didn't have to." She averted her gaze back down to the utilitarian bedclothes she was lying beneath.

"I wanted to." The words caused her head to snap up like the crack of a whip.

"Why? Why did you want to? Were you feeling in need of some charity case or something? I don't need you here, all the time, babying me, I hardly know you! This is my life, I've dealt with worse." She moved farther away on the bed, every fiber in her body taut and burning with some kind of rage. I backed up cautiously, like I was talking with a caged animal, scrambling mentally for something to say.

"Do you want me to leave you alone?" I offered tentatively.

"Yes… No… I don't freaking know! I want life to go back to normal! I want to turn back time! I want to have a life! I want to stop being afraid! Can you give me that?"

"I-I want to." Her eyes went stone cold, all the fight evaporating from their depths, before she turned away.

"Just go…" her hollow words fell flat in the silent air, barely holding the energy to make it to my ears. She was lying there like a corpse, staring off into space, as if the answers to her problems were written among the shadows in the far corner of the room. I turned and left, knowing I wasn't going to get anywhere with her now. I walked the hospital hallway until I came to the nursery window, just sitting there and soaking in the soft colors and muted baby sounds. All those little lives in there were untouched, unhurt, pure and clean. The world they saw in their wide, exploring eyes was a big place, yet free of the sting of reality. I craved that, I wished I could be innocent once more.

"I didn't know you came here too." A soft voice remarked, and I turned to see Meredith Grey standing beside me, taking in the rounded faces and toothless, joyous grins.

"I think George may have mentioned it to me once, I just needed a place to forget all the horrors of the world." I murmured, while leaning my head against the glass. I wasn't quite sure why I would tell her all this, this resident, this baby whom I'd never really been close to.

"Yeah, me too. I'd just never seen you here before." I could tell she wanted to say it, but at the same time had no idea how to bring up such a sensitive topic to her superior.

"Yeah well, I've had to experience a lot of things I never had before, so there's a first time for everything." The younger woman hovered a little ways away.

"Yeah, life tends to do that to you. I wish I knew why. She'll be okay though." She responded, before placing a tentative, yet supportive hand on my shoulder.

"How do you know?" I suppressed an ironic chuckle. Meredith Grey, the dark-and-twisty one, was maybe, possibly, giving ME advice?

"Because she has someone who's worrying herself to death over her. She has a someone, sometimes that's all you really need." She muttered, before disappearing off down the hall, leaving me alone with the cooing of the babies. The cry of my pager split the air, and I immediately recognized the room number. Arizona's. I had arrived there, slightly out of breath from running, to see two nurses and a fumbling intern trying to calm her down. The blonde was crying and screeching incoherently, currently grappling with a nurse who was trying to put an oxygen mask over her mouth.

"What the hell happened?" I asked, noticing the doe-eyed male intern skitter over to where I stood, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down nervously like some carnival ride.

"Well, I was under orders to give her a quick exam, just vitals and the usual stuff, and as soon as I touched her she went nuts. Then I tried to restrain her and she bit my hand!" he cried plaintively, mopping his scraggly dark brown bangs out of his eyes.

"You idiot! Who the hell sends a male doctor to do an exam on a female victim of a traumatic sexual assault! Of course she freaked out when you touched her!" I usually would have continued to ream out the trembling intern, but Arizona's cries were becoming more and more desperate. I turned back to the man, seeing how he seemed to shrink a foot since I last saw him.

"Get the hell out of here, now, or else the bite to your hand will be the least of your worries!" the intern skittered out like a mouse from a cat, and I redirected my attention to the two nurses who were holding Arizona down.

"Let her go, I've got this." I asked. As soon as they stepped away the blonde went into a fetal position, laying on her side and tucking her knees to her chin. She was hunched over, shaking and trembling like a willow tree. I approached her slowly, her panicky eyes following the retreating forms of her "assailants" before fixing mine.

"Shh, it's okay." I reassured her, still tentative to touch her should it trigger another flashback.

"I'm sorry." That was her knee-jerk response to everything, I had a feeling her husband made her say it often.

"You shouldn't be. It's natural." A dry, ineffectual laugh escaped her lips, before she fixed me with a sarcastic look.

"Natural, I have no idea what that word even means anymore. I'm not sure what natural for you is, but natural for me is bruises and screaming, the smell of whiskey and abandonment, and hospital beds. But that's not what natural really means. So yes, freak-outs like that are 'natural' for me, but not for others." I nodded understandingly, taking a seat beside her bed when I noticed the anger spark in her eyes.

"What did I do now?" I tried to keep the sarcasm out of my voice as I spoke, trying to remind myself of the trauma she'd went through.

"Stop acting like this is all fine! Stop just understanding me for a second!" she commanded, throwing her hands down upon the blankets in frustration. The demand confused me, and I quirked my eyebrow as I stood up, leaning up against her bed.

"You want me not to understand?" I asked, watching her fumbling for what to say.

"I want you to stop acting like everything I do is alright. Because I have no idea how I'm supposed to act, and you just accepting it all is confusing me!" she had tears running down her face now, and I offered her a tissue, while formulating my response. Am I supposed to know how she's supposed to act as well?

"Okay…"

"Do you even want to know why I'm here?" she exclaimed angrily.

"If you're ready to tell me, then yes." I noted how she scrabbled for my hand with hers, needing the contact? She licked her lips as she thought, and I tried not to stare too overtly as the idea of her soft, pink lips clouded my mind.

"I told him I was leaving him because I didn't love him anymore. But what really set him off is when I told him I never really loved him, because I was gay." Her delicate pink lips were pursed tightly, as if she could physically hold back the emotions that rocked her in violent waves. I couldn't decide whether her confession was the most heartbreaking or serendipitous thing I had ever heard. I was about to speak, but I could tell she was about to say something else, and I worried that interrupting her would destroy this precious little moment in which she trusted me fully.

"I never wanted to marry him in the first place; he was one of my close guy friends when I was a kid. But when Tim… something happened and I leaned on him more than ever. My parents just kept pressuring and pressuring, unintentionally of course, but every heartbroken gaze or plea from my mom about wanting grandkids stung even more. And I just thought, maybe I could do this? Maybe my parents never have to know I'm a lesbian, and I could be happy with Rick. But then he began to drink, and he'd get angry, and I was in too deep to back out." She admitted, staring at one of the remaining snowflakes hanging, watching it dip and spin lazily in the otherwise still air. She cast me a gaze, obviously noticing how deep in thought I was.

"Hello? Anyone in there? Have I scared you away?" she gave me a sad smile, before leaning over and lightly tapping on my forehead with her knuckles, the way someone might do when knocking on a door.

"I'm here, no need to resort to physical violence!" I suddenly regretted what I had said, knowing how she could take the statement, but she just accepted it for the joke I had meant it as.

"You're right. I can't go around attacking more of my doctors, I'm going to get a reputation." She grinned lazily, before sobering slightly.

"Calliope?" she drawled, her voice was suddenly thick with exhaustion, and I knew she'd be asleep in a few seconds. She's apparently taken to calling me by my full name, which I didn't mind at all coming from her. "Can I ask you a question?"

"You just did." I smiled, getting up and fixing the blankets on the bed, while she gave a little snort of exasperation. "Of course." I amended.

"Where am I gonna stay when I escape this prison you work in?" she cheekily asked.

"I'll find a place. I'll take care of the worrying part, you just get better." She yawned adorably, her sleepy blue eyes sliding shut languidly as her perfect lips formed an O.

"One more." She sighed. "Will you stay?" with my hand still wrapped within hers, I dragged the nearest chair closest with my foot, laying back in it before replying.

"Of course."


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N grrr! I keep half-writing these chapters, then running out of time, putting them down, and forgetting about them for a week! I should really stop doing that, I doubt it's advisable! Anyway, here it is, better late than never right? Read and review!**

**-Nightshade**

A Chance at Happiness

Chapter Nine

"Torres!" Bailey's shrill cry startled me, causing me to jump in surprise, while scrambling not to spill my coffee.

"Yes Bailey?" I asked, trying to keep the sleepiness out of my voice.

"Why have you been staring at the OR board for the last twenty minutes?" oh… I must have kind of slipped into an exhaustion-induced trance, staring at the squiggly lines making up names and procedures on the huge board. I scrambled to come up with a lie that Bailey would believe.

"Oh… nothing, I just like to know what's going on." I pulled the lie out of nowhere, trying not to squirm under her gaze. From the soul-searching glare and the furrowed eyebrow I could tell the shorter woman was not convinced.

"You're lying… you know how I can tell? 'Cause you're a bad liar!" she strode closer, giving me a more in-depth inspection. "you look like hell, you have bags underneath your eyes that could qualify as a small country, and you smell like my interns did after they lived here for that surgical contest… you've been staying with Arizona haven't you?" my God this woman's good.

"What does it matter?" I deflected, answering her question with a question of my own.

"Well, I don't know about your patients, but you look like the walking dead, I wouldn't want you holding a scalpel to me, that's for certain." She drawled with ease, not even having to struggle with her rebuttals.

"What does it matter if I stay with her or not? She needs someone to trust to heal." I groaned, stretching my sore neck as I spoke, those hospital chairs are hard on the back.

"In that case, you're in the wrong wing, the psychology department's one floor up. Look Torres, you shouldn't be getting too involved with your patients, it's not advisable." She warned. Her eyes were filled with the concern born out of experience. I had remembered how her name had been dragged through the mud and raked over the coals with the incident between Izzie and Denny. Something within told me that the shorter doctor was just trying to protect me, she was being Bailey the mother hen, protective of her flock.

"Bailey. I'm not Izzie, and she's not Denny. I'm not going to go running around stealing organs and cutting LVAD's, because that's not what she needs. She needs someone to rely on after she was beaten and raped within inches of her life by someone she's supposed to love and trust." I pleaded now, because I knew that if she expressed her worry to The Chief, I'd be off this case faster than a rogue missile from its launch. I received the weaker tail-end of her "Bailey Glare", paired with a quirked eyebrow for added effect, before she backed down.

"Fine. But if you're going to spend that much time with her, keep monitoring her stats, and see if you can get some basic information to fill her chart out with, a last name would be a good start. And if you're that invested in her, she appears well enough to be discharged in a few days, see to it that she has some accommodations ready other than the house of horrors she probably lived in before." And with a final once-over, I was passed the chart before Hurricane Miranda whirled around and headed the other way, looking for interns on her radar in need of a bit of a wake-up call perhaps. Armed with my unofficial permission, although as it has been said before, spiritually, Bailey's over all our heads, I headed back to Arizona's room.

"Hey, what took you so long? You usually come here to obsess over the readings on the irritating beepy machine every two hours, it's been two hours and eleven minutes." The blonde stated with an impish grin.

"Well I was nearly given a thorough scolding by my colleague; your so-called "beepy machines" had to wait." I watched her eyebrows do a mischievous dance as she processed that bit of information.

"Ooooh, the fancy Dr. Calliope Torres is getting in trouble! What for?"

"For hanging out with you too much." I admitted sheepishly, sitting down on the chair which had been my bed the other night.

"And what was your brilliant defense?"

"That you're just too magical and irresistible to be apart from." I joked back, watching a jubilant smile spread across her face.

"So in other words, the truth." I chuckled under my breath at her fake-cockiness as I flipped open her chart.

"Rein in the arrogance train for a sec okay, I need to fill in some of this stuff for your chart." I jotted down her vital signs - stable of course – before I began nervously fiddling with the pen, clicking the back in and out. Surgeon's hands, they never rest.

"I need your last name. For the chart." I watched her face fall as soon as I mentioned it, and I began to worry what I'd said wrong. Arizona swallowed uncomfortably, before clearing her throat of obvious nerves.

"Robbins, it's my maiden name. Arizona Robbins." I scribbled that into the formerly blank spot before flipping the chart shut.

"I suppose soon it'll be your full-time name again." I mentioned nonchalantly, feeling the need to explain myself as soon as I saw her frozen appearance.

"Y'know, after the divorce and everything?" I asked. It seemed obvious right?

"When did I say anything about a divorce?" she seemed aghast that I could bring the topic, while I was aghast at what she was implying.

"You aren't seriously thinking about going back to this guy, seriously?" I was just in utter shock and awe at her seemingly miserable decision making. Arizona ripped the blanket off of the bed, sitting up on the side of the bed, reaching to uncover the wire apparatus that was currently holding the shattered pieces of her tibia and fibula together.

"I'm thinking that this is what I got when I tried to leave him the first time." Her tone was sombre, and while I could somehow wrap my head around her logic, I refused to accept it.

"He wouldn't get to touch you this time. Give me a name, and I'll be on him so hard he won't know what hit him."

"You don't get it do you? If I left him, he'd go after me as if I had a bounty on my head! He'd kill me, surely. Believe it or not, I'm safer with him." She flung the blanket over her leg once again, her tone resigned and immovable.

"If you left him, I wouldn't let him get within eyeshot of you. You wouldn't be sharing the air with him, because he'd either be rotting in jail, or six feet below ground." My tone was as sharp and cold as a sword, and as menacing as one as well. Despite the years of training for how to save a life, the oaths I took to "do no harm", the conscience that would usually pipe up, all I wanted in this instant was to see this Rick-someone's head on a stick.

"He's more powerful than you think. He'd find me, it's just a matter of when." She was adamant in this. I sighed in defeat, turning away and preparing to leave.

"Rickard McCabe." She whimpered, and with the level of fear in her voice, I'd have thought that he was there in the room. In a way, he was, simply by acknowledging him, Arizona was dredging up all her awful memories of him. But her words were much more than a name. On some unspoken level she was giving me permission, permission to protect her at all costs, permission to stick around, permission to be hers.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N my muse really hasn't been cooperating when it comes to this fic! I truly apologize for the long wait, but pulling ideas for this story's kind of like pulling teeth! I'm back though, with another chapter, hoping to air out my musty muse and start the fresh ideas brewing!**

**-Nightshade**

**I don't own Grey's Anatomy!**

A Chance at Happiness

Chapter Ten

That morning had been unnaturally happy, with Bailey dropping by with the news that Arizona would be given discharge papers any day now. Of course, the blonde was acting like she didn't have a care in the world, key word being acting, but beneath all her fake happiness and polish seemed to be a spark of real joy. We were both engaged in some sort of light conversation, the type of banter like a butterfly, where the topics flitted to mind long enough to cheer you up, but short enough that you forgot what it was exactly soon after. The chatter was abruptly interrupted though, when a matching pair of navy-clad cops knocked at the door. All of a sudden, all the life in Arizona's face drained away, her lifeless blue eyes fixed on the forms through the door. She looked as though she was seeing a ghost.

"Calliope who is that?" her voice tentative, hoping they weren't here for her. I knew very well who they were, but I wasn't going to tell her that right then. Instead I got up, moved towards the door slowly, and opened it just a crack.

"Hello, I'm Officer Callahaughn, and this is my partner, Officer DuPont, we'd like to speak with Miss Robbins?" a petite yet firmly-built brunette introduced, gesturing to her taller, darker-skinned male counterpart. She hadn't spoken in anything louder than a querying whisper, and yet Arizona heard it all. Her accusing voice raised as soon as the policewoman finished talking.

"You called the police?" she asked indignantly, her voice cracking as its volume raised angrily. I silently asked them to hold outside for a moment, shutting the door before turning around to face the bedridden blonde. I wanted to avoid as much as a fuss as possible, and not having police listening into an emotional Arizona would be a good start to that. Anger was coloring her cheeks bright red and igniting a fire in her eyes as she stared me down, daring me to explain myself.

"It's hospital protocol to contact the police when an abuse or rape-"

"I wasn't raped." She interjected, completely rejecting the obvious. I could tell that, now unable to hide from the truth, her angry defenses were flaring up, ready to force me, or anyone else kind enough to care, away.

"Then what do you call this?" I gestured towards her broken arm delicately, making my voice as soft and soothing as possible.

"It was an accident." She insisted. I doubted that she realized how truly stupid she sounded, blatantly denying the truth that had slapped her in the face, broke her limbs, kicked her in the gut, and violated her. I wasn't sure how she could even form the word 'accident' in her throat and still associate it with her attack. They were two completely opposite things.

"What about the positive results we got back from the SAFE kit?" I pushed. She scrambled for a lie to cover it up, so quickly and instinctively that it seemed automatic. Lying to cover up her husband's brutality became so common an occurrence in her life that it was an autonomic response.

"It was consensual." She lied through gritted teeth, squirming beneath my gaze as she tried to supress the defensive anger that was oozing from her pores.

"Consensual? You came in with more bruises than the ball in a game of soccer with steel-toed boots! You nearly died on the table! That is the biggest load of crap I've ever heard Arizona. You can't even look me in the eyes as you say it!" I was quickly losing control over my emotions, but her earlier words had sent a stake through my heart. I thought she trusted me, I thought we were almost friends, but then somehow she has the ability to lie and say that this was all okay? It was physically agonizing to watch this beautiful blonde verbally let her tormentor win.

"Shut up Callie." She growled. Callie, not Calliope, another indicator of her distancing herself.

"No, Arizona I won't. I will not let you let this bastard win. I should have called the police the instant you were wheeled through those doors, but I didn't. I wanted to wait until you were strong enough, out of kindness. But at the same time I won't watch you deny it all and slide back into the life you had before. I care about you." I pleaded. I heard the shuffling of feet from outside the room, the police officers wondering what all the holdup was no doubt.

"If you care about my feelings at all, you will shut the hell up and make them leave!" her defenses were thicker and harder than an iceberg, she was relentless. For a few seconds, I had a hard time believing that such a thick-headed and strong willed woman would ever be broken by anyone. I ran an exasperated hand through my raven locks, a stressed tic I developed over the years I suppose, externalizing all my frustration.

"That won't fix anything and you know it. I mean, God Arizona, why won't you just let me help you?" I asked, literally at my wits end. With not even a heartbeat of silence after my question, Arizona shouted angrily, her voice cracking and warbling like a broken reed.

"Because I deserved it!" her declaration shattered our angry atmosphere, the shards of it falling away, leaving only the steel-strong defense of ignorance. Silence echoed through the room for nearly a minute as we both processed her admission, the raspy breaths in the wake of the yelling resounded through the room like deafening screeches. She believed she deserved this? That was truly what she believed to be true? I couldn't even fit the sentence together in my head. It just didn't make sense.

"No one deserves this Ari-"

"Get out." She shut me down instantly.

"Listen to me, please."

"No." I was getting nothing anymore; I may as well be talking to my own echo. Arizona had lay back in her bed and turned away from the door, refusing to face me, and shutting me out with her body language as well as her limited speech.

"Okay, fine. But please talk to the police, I promise they'll protect you, but they need your statement first. If you truly believe that you deserve all this, which you don't, fine. Don't talk to them for yourself, talk to them because I asked you to. Talk to them because hopefully, you trust me. Talk to them because you know that I would never do you any harm purposefully. Please?" I begged, before turning and leaving the room. I nearly walked right into the waiting cops, who were literally standing right on the other side of the door. They looked as if they'd heard everything we'd just said, and why wouldn't they? We did yell it at the top of our lungs! I walked over to the nearby nurses' station to put my head down and decompress. Somewhere during my third silent, pleading prayer, heavy footsteps walked up behind me, and a large hand tapped me on the shoulder.

"Officer DuPont?" I asked in confusion, wondering why the tall man was here with me and not interviewing Arizona.

"Dr. Torres." He greeted, his voice bearing a similar professionalism, but lacking my surprise. "You and Miss Robbins are close, right?"

"I suppose, we met a few times before her… incident." I wasn't quite sure what to tell him. Who was Arizona to me? It wasn't like we hung out, unless you count a random chat in a park out behind a coffee shop hanging out.

"But you care about her. Keep caring, in my line of work I've seen too many women's lives destroyed by violence, all because they don't have that push to get them out of that vicious cycle. Don't be afraid to push her a little, not too hard, but just enough that she can begin to heal herself. I know it may not seem like it, but she's one of the lucky ones. She has someone who cares enough to push her." His voice was a soothing baritone, his dark brown eyes soft as he spoke, somehow calming the frenzied storm of thoughts within my head. I nodded silently, not knowing what to say back. He seemed to understand that though, holding his position for a few seconds more before stepping back.

"I suppose I'll go accompany Officer Callahaughn. Have a nice day Dr. Torres, keep caring." He affirmed, resuming his leaden-foot walk back to Arizona's room. Despite the odd sense of calm which had managed to delicately blanket my worries like a thin, patchy coat of snow, I was left hoping to God that Arizona was cooperating. I cared enough to push yes, but I didn't have the energy or the strength to push someone who frantically ran back towards the poison that almost killed her once. After all, I'm only human, and no amount of caring can change that.

**A/N please review!**


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